Star Light, Star Bright
by DobbyWobby
Summary: Mary Alice Brandon was imprisoned. Jasper Whitlock fought. Alice can't remember. Jasper can't forget. Their untold stories, from beginning to end.
1. Star light, star bright

**Inspired by a review from **_**TheSingingGirl**_** and **_**Twilightsoccerplayer**_** on my other story, **_**A thought, a feeling, a memory**_**. They asked for more about Mary Alice's life. This was going to be a second chapter to that, but it grew and took on a life of its own. Still debating whether this is just going to be an Alice/Jasper fic or whether it will connect the whole Cullen family. If you have a preference, tell me in your review or vote on the poll on my profile.**

She lay in her bed, watching the sliver of moonlight coming through the crack in her curtains, waiting and watching. In her 10 years of barely leaving this room, never mind the house, she had learnt what it was to be patient. She had also learnt to listen.

Evenings were the most interesting time, she felt. People moved around more, walked up and down the hallway. She heard her little sister head off to bed, shepherded by the nanny, and she could tell the difference in their footsteps.

She heard her sister praying in the next room. Her sister honestly believed in God, brought up very strictly by their father. Her sister's prayers were peaceful to listen to, she looked forward to them. They were... innocent. Wishes of happiness and thanks for her family. Sometimes she talked about her day, sometimes what she was planning to do. It was the innocent happiness of an eight-year-old. Innocent happiness she herself had never had.

She heard her parents finishing their dinner, heard the scrape of chairs in the dining room, and footsteps, the somehow _thin_ footsteps of her mother and the loud stomps of her father. They also passed down the hallway, ignoring her door as if she didn't exist. Sometimes she wondered if they wished she didn't exist.

When her sister was passing her room, if the nanny wasn't there, she'd knock on the door. It was locked, she couldn't open it, but she'd giggle and twist the doorknob. Sometimes she'd speak. Once she'd even sung, and a couple of times she'd posted drawings under the door.

These drawings were very carefully hidden, laid flat under a couple of loose floorboards in the corner, next to the window. Once everyone was asleep she sometimes got them out to look at them. They always made her cry.

She had two favourites. One was the first one Cynthia had ever posted, aged about 5 or 6. It was the same day she'd asked about her sister and been slapped smartly across the face. She'd run, crying, into her room. A few hours later she'd poster the drawing under the door.

It was simple, a drawing of four stick figures, three with hair and skirts. She'd written names beneath the figures, mis-spelling father and somehow splitting mother into two words. She'd got the 'Mary' right, probably copied from the bible, but the 'Alice' was spelt 'Alis' and then the 's' was backwards. It was easy for her to imagine Cynthia sitting on her bed, screwing up her face in concentration, trying to spell names and get letters the right way round. Beneath the names was written 'My Family', and it was this that made her cry each time. Cynthia's family included her, but she could bet if her parents had drawn this picture it wouldn't have.

The second drawing was much more recent. It was a picture of the night's sky, the stars and the moon. She could only imagine the amount of time it had taken. Beneath the picture was a rhyme:  
_Star light, star bright  
First star I see tonight  
I wish I may, I wish I might,  
Have the wish I wish tonight.  
_Then, beneath that was written: _I wish you were happy_.

After that picture, she only cried what there was no-one to awake to hear her, swearing that Cynthia would keep her happy innocence for as long as possible, and never have to listen to her cry behind a locked door again.

Cynthia posted pictures, sung, spoke and laughed just to hear her laugh back. Her parents would walk straight past the door. She was sure they didn't even look at it.

When Cynthia was near her, it was as if she was giving off feelings of love and happiness, she brightened everything. When her parents were near, they gave feelings of fear, and sometimes hatred. Fear of their child, their daughter. She could see it in their eyes.

She heard her parent's door shut, and her father kneeling down beside the bed. If she loved Cynthia's prayers, she hated her father's. They crept into her mind like poison; she could do nothing to block them out.

Her father spoke in his sermon giving voice, praying to the all-merciful Lord to save his daughter, to redeem her.

But if God was all-merciful, how come she hadn't seen the sunlight in 10 years?

When she was sure everyone, including the servants, was asleep, she crept out of the bed and opened the curtains a little bit, slipping behind them so she sat on the window sill and could look out at the sky. The endless pattern of stars, tiny specks of light, they intrigued her. They seemed to go on forever. She often stared at them all night. Looking at the stars was the only time she felt free.

She never saw sunlight, but no-one could take the stars away from her. She thought, anyway.

In the asylum, she had nothing. They provided her with a ragged grey dress, pitifully thing, grimy and torn. She didn't care; she honestly couldn't care less about what she was wearing.

She'd lost everything. Cynthia's drawings, her own sketches and the papers she'd recorded her visions on. She hoped her parents never found any of it. Cynthia would be in trouble for giving her pictures, and she didn't want her sister to get hurt. She cried for her sister, and for what she had lost.

She cried again that first night, when the sun set. The window was too high, too small and she was too short and too weak. If she stretched her fingers could just brush the window ledge, but she had no way of climbing. They had taken away the stars, the one thing she thought she'd always have.

It was then she really realised the loss of the little speck of freedom she'd had left.

With no paper, she began to write her visions in the dirt on the floor. She didn't care when they got smudged or became unreadable, it was just the act of recording them that she needed. She wrote about the man with ruby eyes and golden hair so often there was always one copy that was legible. In ten years, she'd grown up, but he hadn't changed at all. Even with ruby eyes, she was never frightened of him. She knew he'd do anything to protect her.

If she had no vision to record she concentrated on carving the simple rhyme into the soft stone beneath the window. _Star light, star bright._ She was going to carve them so deeply that they'd never be worn away. The one thing she had left was those 23 words. They would never take those away from her.

Once she'd finished the rhyme, she carved her name beneath it. Alice. Just Alice. She dropped the Mary because Mary was the mother of Jesus, the son of God. Mary was holy and innocent, but if she was holy and innocent God would have saved her, but He hadn't. So she didn't deserve the name Mary.

She dropped her surname because it linked her to her parents, and she thought she wanted to forget them. But when she did find herself forgetting, she was scared. So she wrote down everything she could remember on the floor, only she did care about this, and when it got smudged she cried, because she couldn't remember it to write it again. And she felt completely alone.

The only thing that kept her going was her visions. She lived completely in the future; she couldn't really remember her visions once they'd ended, and the present held no interest to her. She stopped eating for days on end, and grew painfully thin, as if she weren't thin already. If the visions didn't come for a while, she'd eat, knowing that by making a decision something would happen. She saw a vision of her own dead body so many times it lost all meaning to her. The doctor's report: dead from starvation. Her body would have been buried in the little plot outside the asylum. She already had a gravestone, saying she died on the day she was admitted to the asylum. Morbidly, she enjoyed visions of her gravestone. She could pretend the words written on it were actually meant, and for a few minutes she could be as close to happy as she could ever get.

She still saw the ruby-eyed-golden-haired man. He was so often unhappy she wanted to cry for him, but she was never sure if she actually was. The present was too painful to return to. Maybe she was crying, maybe she would be. All she knew was that she probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow.

She began to see another man, with sandy-blond hair, cropped short. She watched as he met a woman, with flaming red hair. She didn't see them regularly, so they weren't planning very far in advance, but she knew in some way they were connected to her.

One day the door opened. She didn't raise her head, didn't come out of the future. She lost track of time in visions, it was quite possible that she was getting another bowl of food already. Then someone entered. She stayed staring at the ceiling. He spoke, called her name. "Alice." He said.

This made her come back to the present. Every so often a doctor would come up with a new 'treatment' to 'cure' her. But they always called her 'Mary', or 'Mary Alice'. Never just 'Alice'. She didn't look at him, but waited for him to say something. He talked aimlessly for a while, never asking her to speak, and she was grateful. She hadn't spoken in the four years since she came here, she wasn't even sure she knew how any more. But he didn't ask her, so it didn't matter.

This new man often came. After a while she began to expect, and even look forward to his visits. They provided something in the present that would keep her there. After a while she began to sit up, she looked at him. He was middle-aged, about 40, she thought, with black hair streaked with grey, but his eyes were strange. They looked far too old for his face, and sometimes she thought they changed colour, but she never had any proof of that. Even her recent memories were blurred.

He taught her to communicate without speaking, taught her signs and symbols. Slowly and painstakingly, because she was likely to have forgotten most by the following day. They never really stuck into her brain, just a few of the basics.

One day, he read out the poem she had painstakingly carved into the stone wall below the window. She cried for the first time since her memories had begun to fade. The man was shocked, and seemed unhappy. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. She hadn't been hugged since she was four.

The visions of the ruby-eyed-golden-haired man came less frequently, and the few she saw were blurred and unfocused. Instead, she got visions of the other man, and the woman more and more often, their lives were becoming more and more entwined with time.

One of these visions hit her when the man was visiting her. He asked her what she had seen, and she told him slowly and painstakingly about the man and the woman. She knew she had seen them before, but she couldn't remember anything about it.

The man hissed softly between his teeth. 'James.' He said. 'And a woman? He must have found a mate. But what does he want with...' His voice trailed off. 'Alice,' He said. 'You must tell me if you see him again. You must!' He finished shouting at her, and she was scared of him for the first time.

She did see James again, many many times. She saw him running through forests, hiding when the sun shone. And she saw him hunting. For the first time, she realised what he was, what the ruby eyes meant. And her heart pulled when she realised the golden haired other man she'd seen for so long, the man she'd always felt would protect her... he had ruby eyes as well.

One night (and she knew it was night, because the cell dropped from a twilight grey colour to a navy blue) she heard noises outside her window, so close to her, but too far away. She heard running noises and muted conversation she couldn't catch. Then a man's voice echoed outside her window. 'Hello.'

She sat paralysed, some instinct was telling her to flee, but she was trapped in her tiny cell. 'Who are you?' The voice continued. 'Never mind, I don't need to know. Your scent...' He breathed in heavily. 'Mouth-watering.'

He began to bend the metal and remove the concrete bricks. A gap appeared, and she saw his face in reality for the first time. He held no interest to her, however. Because through the gap he'd made she could see the stars.

The woman, his mate, called him. 'James, we must leave. NOW!' He seemed about to argue, but she began to pull his arm. 'I'll see you again, little one.' He called as he left. 'Make no mistake...'

Then the other man, the one who had visited her and been so kind arrived. His eyes were black and furious as they stared after the couple. 'She knew.' He muttered. 'How could she have known. Gifted, perhaps.' Then his eyes focussed on her as she stared at the stars. 'Alice! Are you alright? You weren't hurt.' She nodded absently, still not looking at him.

'He has your scent, now. He wants it. There's... there's no other way. Alice, I'm sorry.' He looked round the cell. 'I'll make sure you have a better life next time. You deserve it.' The words didn't really sink in to her confused brain, they didn't make any sense to her, and so she ignored them.

He lifted her out of her cell then, and set about replacing the bricks and bending the metal. She should have been interested, curious about how he could do that. But she wasn't. Maybe she'd lost curiosity during her long years in the asylum. Maybe she lost it years before that.

Then the man picked her up and ran, ran unnaturally and inhumanly fast. She was afraid of him, afraid that maybe he was one of the devils or demons her father had said existed. But her father had also said she was possessed, and she had never felt more in control of herself than when she was being carried through the countryside so fast she couldn't see anything. Instinctively, she still trusted him, because he had been so kind to her, and because now she was beginning to realise the blond man and the red haired woman wanted to hurt her, kill her, and he had saved her. So she lay still and quiet as he carried her, until she realised she was so tired, and her eyes closed in the first peaceful sleep she'd had in years.

She dreamed a strange dream. She dreamt the man carried her for many miles, and would have gone further, but had to stop. She didn't know why. She dreamt he placed her on the ground, and she could here him muttering about 'James' and 'No time' and what she thought may have been a prayer. She dreamt that he leant over her, and apologised. 'I'm sorry, Alice. Believe me. You seem resourceful, you'll be fine, you'll survive. I know that I won't be there to help you, and it kills me, but it's the only way I can save you.' And she felt pressure on her arms, her neck. She dreamt she was in pain, and screamed for someone to save her, and that he took her hand and apologised again. She dreamt that the sandy-haired man and his flame-haired companion came back. And as the pain burned her from the inside out, she could here the sounds of fighting by her, and then the tearing sound of metal screeching as it was ripped. She heard the crackling of flames, and quiet voices.

Then she dreamt that the man who'd come to the asylum, who'd haunted her visions, James, came over to her. 'He was brave, that old one.' He said. 'He chose to save you, but I don't understand why. Does it matter? Not really. You may not remember any of this. I killed him for denying me you, but I have no reason to harm you.' She dreamt he carried on talking, but a new pain had struck her. The man who'd called her Alice, who'd saved her. He was dead, killed by James. She shut down, sunk into blackness and blocked out everything. And she felt at peace at last.

She had a vision. She saw the ruby-eyed-golden-haired man, but he was facing away from her, and then she saw a black haired, tiny stranger. She was skipping up to him from behind, and tapped him on the shoulder. The man turned around, and smiled. She saw his eyes, and they were no longer ruby. They were amber, orange almost. He took the strangers hand, and she smiled up at him as he smiled down at her.

She woke up. For her, it was the first time. She kept her eyes shut, terrified. She lay, tensed on the hard ground for ages, until she was sure nothing was around her. Her ears were picking up all sorts of sounds, and she couldn't name any of them. She breathed in through her nose and could smell so many things. Some of them she liked, some of them she didn't. She lay there again, until she was sure nothing was going to change. And then she opened her eyes.

Immediately she shut them again, cringing away from the light and the pain that burned her. She didn't know anything, she didn't know what to do or how to react. She felt alone.

She tried again, opening her eyes slowly, squinting. She was in a field and there was... There was sunlight. She sat up, and looked around herself in wonder. It was so _beautiful_, everything was bright and the colours...

She stayed where she was for ages, enjoying the light and the warmth. She watched as the shadows cast by the plants moved, and then realised the sun was sinking. Her heart broke as she watched the sun sink lower and lower, casting beautiful red and orange shades over everything. She twisted her head, to watch the plants around her, and her eye caught a glimmer of silver. Curious, she moved over to it, she was there immedieatly, as soon as she thought about moving. It confused her that she didn't know whether she was supposed to be able to do that.

The silver was a puddle, a patch of water on the ground. She leant over it, mesmerised, but jumped back as a face appeared in it. It was the stranger-girl from her vision. She moved slowly forwards again, and watched as the girl did as well. She smiled, and the girl smiled at the same time. She lifted her hand, and waved. So did the other girl. She knelt down, and reached out, but her hand went through the girl and touched earth below. Terrified, she put both hands over her mouth and leant away. But the girl was still there, below the ripples. And she had her hands on her mouth as well. She moved one hand, and so did the girl.

She _was_ the girl. She was the stranger girl from her vision, with the man. She touched her short black hair and stared at her face, exactly the same as the vision girl's had been.

She was the vision girl, the stranger-girl. One day she would find the golden-haired man.

Alice smiled, and she sat by the pool as the sky grew ever darker. She watched the sun sink, and the moon rise. She watched the stars come out. She was free.

_Star light, star bright  
First star I see tonight  
I wish I may, I wish I might  
Have the wish I wish tonight..._


	2. First Star I See Tonight

"This way please, ma'am. Yes, please join this group. We should be gone within the hour." He looked and sounded quite tired, but young and energetic. His youth didn't match his military rank – it was too high for him.

"Yes, this way, sir."

The crowd of people passed him, and through a gap in the flow he caught sight of a young woman sitting on the ground around 20 metres away. She had two toddlers; one sat either side of her and both were listening to her, but she was too far away for him to hear as well.

He was directing hundreds of families, they were to be evacuated, the civilians. He'd seen what the war had done to them. In many cases it had ripped families apart, sometimes through the death of loved ones... and sometimes because they went to fight.

At fifteen he had applied for the army, but they said he was too young. At nearly seventeen he was tall enough to be older than he was, and he lied about his age, but no one really cared anyway. They needed soldiers, and he was strong and able and willing. So they let him through.

He had no wife, no children. He left behind his parents and younger sister, no one else. At first he told the truth about this, but hearing the other men talk about their wives he felt jealousy, and longing. So later, when asked, he'd talk about Catherine. They were newly-wed just before he joined, she was beautiful, kind, caring and generous. When he signed up she moved away to live with relatives, fearful of the war. They wrote to each other whenever possible.

It was generic stuff.

He received, and wrote, letters to and from his family. They never spoke of missing him, and he never spoke of the real horrors of war. He knew that they could be ill, and he wouldn't know. They knew he could be wounded and they wouldn't know. His parents thought he was too young to fight; they didn't know he'd lied about his age to get in. His sister was more open, she was terrified he'd die on the battlefield.

This girl looked no older than his sister would be now, maybe 17 or 18. He walked towards her, but his mind was filled with the thoughts of his sister. Did she look like this girl? What did she look like? How tall was she, was she engaged, what was she doing...

The girl was still talking to the toddlers, and as he drew close enough to hear, something made him slow down and listen.

'And then, once it's completely dark, and it has to be _completely_ dark, you look up at the sky, and you say:  
Star light, star bright  
First Star I see tonight  
I wish I may, I wish I might  
Have the wish I wish tonight._  
_And if you've been good, and saying your prayers every night, then maybe, just maybe, your wish will be granted!"

The toddlers were delighted with this, clapping their hands and jumping excitedly.

He walked a little closer, and she looked up and noticed him. Seeing her face reminded him how young she was, and he wondered about the children. They were about 4 or 5, she couldn't be their mother. Maybe an older sister, looking after what was left of her family. She wasn't the only one.

'This way, ma'am.' He directed quietly.

She stood up quietly, taking a toddler in each hand. She was furious, but very, very scared, and vulnerable. 'My brother and sister.' She said coldly as she passed, having noticed his gaze on the toddlers. So he was right. And she was scared of being judged, and shunned by people who didn't think she was their sibling, but their mother. He felt very sorry for her, risking being judged while she was grieving for her family.

He watched her retreating back, and thought again of his sister. He hoped to see her again soon. Then, another group of people arrived to be directed, and he was forced to banish thoughts of his sister and his family to do his job.

He didn't think of her again until later, as the sun began to go down. He liked the evening, because the surroundings came to life. He'd grown up in the countryside, and loved the changes that came over everything once the sun was gone. There were clouds covering most of the sky, but there was a patch you could see the stars through. He thought of the toddlers, and he hoped they could see the stars.

The clouds had gone by the time he rode back toward Galveston, when the civilians had safely arrived. The sky was clear, and the moon was bright, as he first saw them. They were... breathtaking, there was no other word to describe them. He thought they'd got left behind, lost from the party of civilians, so he crossed the road to meet them, and dismounted from his horse. As he got closer to them, he realised breathtaking wasn't a good enough word. There wasn't a good enough word to describe the faces of these... angels? Or demons, walking on earth?

'He's speechless.'

And he was, for in dismounting his horse he noticed for the first time their pale, chalk-white skin and dark, ruby-black eyes.

One of the others leaned in towards him, and subconsciously he began to lean backward before catching himself. 'Lovely.' She said.

Her movement caused the third to move, the smallest one. As soon as she spoke he focused on her, because he could tell she was in charge. It was a useful skill, almost a gift of his, to be able to recognise who was in charge, and had come in use many times during his military career.

The small brunette was still speaking. 'he looks right – young, strong, an officer...'

As she paused he looked like he was about to say something, but couldn't force the words from his mouth.

'And there's something more... do you sense it? He's... compelling.' The brunette turned to the others.

'Oh yes.' The same one who'd leaned in to him before moved forwards again.

'Patience. I want to keep this one.'

The brunette's words made no sense to him, but again the other backed away.

The tallest spoke. 'You'd better do it, Maria, if he's important to you. I kill them twice as often as I keep them.'

'Yes.' The brunette, Maria, agreed. 'I'll do it. Take Nettie away, will you? I don't want to have to protect my back when I'm trying to focus.'

His eyes were wary, darting between the women, but something was stopping him.

'Let's hunt.' The smaller blonde, Nettie, said enthusiastically. He wondered what she meant, and found himself subconsciously moving away again. As the two blondes moved he stared at them, wondering if they were angels, moving so fast they were flying. Once they were out of sight he focused again on Maria, who in turn was watching him.

'What is your name, soldier?'

All of a sudden he was afraid, terrified. 'Major Jasper Whitlock, ma'am.'

'I truly hope you survive, Jasper. I have a good feeling about you.' Her soft voice contrasted her statement, as she lent forwards to reach his neck with her teeth. He was paralysed as she lent in, but as soon as her teeth tore his neck he collapsed to the floor. She fell with him, her teeth never leaving his neck, until she had to back away, her eyes burning scarlet. Then he felt himself being lifted and she ran, or flew perhaps, with him.

He heard the others voices, conversations and decisions, but he was drifting in and out of consciousness because of the pain, the white-hot fire burning him from the inside out, and no one could stop it. He begged them to stop, putting his pride to one side, and he heard Maria telling him there was nothing she could do. For three days he burned alive.

When at last the pain had faded from his body he sat up, disorientating himself at the speed. All three came to look at him, and then Maria sent the other two away so she could talk. They were irritated.

She told him they were vampires, and he laughed, but even as he dismissed it he thought back to when he saw them first. Even distracted as he was by the haziness of his memory, he remembered that he knew then they weren't natural. He'd thought demons, but were vampires not demons?

'Am I one now?' He asked her, and she nodded.

From that moment he followed her for guidance. He was unsure of everything in this new life and he watched and copied her. She taught him and several others to fight, and to fight well, but of course that led them fighting each other.

He fought against one of the others, and he won. He destroyed the other, ripping him and, under Maria's instruction, burned the pieces in the campfire they always had lit, but never went near. She was torn between satisfaction and annoyance.

He didn't know what this new feeling was, didn't understand how he was doing it. He was reading their emotions. He didn't know if this was normal for... vampires, or if it was just him. Maria never spoke about reading emotions, but that didn't mean she didn't. He was also scared of telling her, scared of how she'd react and what he should do. This was something she hadn't led him in and he had to decide for himself. It showed him how reliant he had become on her.

It was a while later he discovered he could control emotions of others as well. It was by accident at first, he stopped a fight between two of his brothers as Maria was trying to build up their numbers. He calmed them down using his talent instead of relying on strength to break them up like normal. It was one of the main reasons Maria put him in charge – his ability to stop fights, at least the ones he wasn't involved in. Once he was in charge the number of fights decreased.

When there were over 20 of them Maria led them in a battle. They fought at night, in a wasteland zone outside the city. He caught himself looking at the stars, and thinking about the poem the girl had told the toddlers, Star light, star bright, which led him to think of his family, his little sister... what he'd lost.

The fighting was fierce, wild, animalistic, but few of theirs died, just four. They killed all 11 of their enemies to take control.

Once the fighting was finished he walked around the wasteland. He was confused, and had no understanding of why. The fighting was certainly no worse than he'd seen in his human years, even though the fuzzy memories hurt to look at. He didn't know how to react to the feelings of others as well as himself.

She walked towards him, and he was amazed by the feelings of lust coming off her. He was desperate for guidance and reassurance, desperate for leadership and the knowledge that he was moving in the right direction. He wanted to forget the life he now had and everything he'd lost. He put his arms around her and kissed her, and she responded to him.

It was as animalistic as the fight.

The frequency of the fighting grew, she was greedy and power-thirsty, but the endless fights never blurred into one, his now perfect memory recall ensuring that he could remember each and every moment of bloodshed and battle.

He could remember how slowly each and every vampire around him got killed. He could remember the screeching tearing as teeth tore apart flesh, and the acrid smell of fires. He could remember Maria, each and every time. He could remember how as he grew older and passed three years his gift began to increase in power and precision, so he could read and control individuals, not perfectly, but getting closer.

He told her about his gift after a battle, the one for a tiny town but a large area of land in the west of Mexico. They sat by the dying fire. It had been a bad battle. They'd gone in with 25, and come out with 6. They would have been destroyed only they, Nettie and Lucy, ran away, leaving the two surviving newborns to fend for themselves. He didn't know what to feel about this, was sure this couldn't be right, but she said it was the only way, and he believed her.

Nettie and Lucy left to hunt, and he knew this was his chance.

She was scared and annoyed when he started, so he calmed her down until he'd finished. He sat next to her in silence, waiting for her to speak. She was the leader, he only the follower.

She spoke quietly after several long moments. 'How accurately can you control emotions?'

She was feeling no anger or fear, and this made him wary. 'My control improves all the time, but already quite accurately.'

He wished he could tell what she was thinking. It was hard to lie with emotions, but he knew you could.

He supposed he wasn't really surprised when she finally decided that his gift was of great use to her. He was promoted higher than before, to become her second-in-command. He helped plan the battles, angering Nettie and Lucy. Neither he nor Maria told them about his gift. Maria said they had no reason to know.

He began to notice a change in Nettie and Lucy's feeling when they were around him and Maria. They began to be furious, cold and calculating. They went to hunt together much more often, choosing to stay out of groups. He talked to Maria about this often, meaning that when Nettie and Lucy finally turned against them, they were prepared.

They won. How could they not, for he was a better fighter than all three of them and Maria was much faster than the others. They burnt the pieces of their companions for many years in the campfire, and he felt confused again as he looked at the fire. Was this really right? Was there another way out?

He pushed his doubts aside when Maria put her arms around him. This was the only life there was, the only life he could lead now.

It continued. The battles, the wars, never on the same scale as they had been in his earlier years after all the losses in the south, but they still continued. The newborns came and went. The sun set every evening. And he began to hate this life even more.

He didn't think it was right any more. He didn't like this life, but he knew no other and thought there was no other, and therefore no way out. He hated the blood and the battle, hated the scars that covered practically every inch of skin on his body. He pushed his depression to one side as much as possible. It angered Maria, and that was something he knew to avoid. Not all his scars were from enemies in battle.

Peter ran when he tried to kill Charlotte with the other newborns. They escaped, they left and he let them. He didn't want to destroy Peter. He felt that they'd die or be back soon anyway. Maria disagreed, she was furious with him. The new bites on his arms and torso the following day were proof. The venom burned him in silence.

It became harder and harder to push his depression to one side. It swallowed him and engulfed him, and he could find no way to stop it. It confused Maria, and slightly disgusted her. They avoided seeing each other for days at a time, because when they were together all they did was fight and argue. They hunted separately, even though they'd always hunted together before.

It was nearing sunset when Peter came back for him. Maria and all the newborns were hunting; he just sat watching the fire. Peter came from behind the camp to talk to him. He talked about his life now, with Charlotte. They'd not fought for years, they lived in peace. They travelled around, they hunted when they wanted to, they hid, but not to the same extent.

Jasper was convinced. As he left with Peter, he looked up at the stars. He remembered the girl with the toddlers, and thought of the rhyme. Behind him, Maria watched him leave.

_Star light, star bright  
First star I see tonight  
I wish I may, I wish I might  
Have the wish I wish tonight..._


	3. I Wish I May, I Wish I Might

Without her visions, she wouldn't have been able to survive. Or would she? Again, another unknown presented to her by her life. She saw a vision of a family, she saw them hunting and she imitated them. She didn't know if she needed to hunt as often as she did, but she desperately wanted to avoid the visions she got if she strayed too close to a town, the visions of her orange-y eyes burning bright and scarlet once again like they had when she sat by the pool of water.

She was in many ways, if not most, confused. Bewildered by everything, with no memories to help her, she felt more than once that she was clinging to sanity and rationality by her fingertips. She relied on her visions of the future to show her what to do, her visions of other to show her how to act. So yes, without her visions she would be unable to survive, or survive as a creature with some emotions and aims. She'd become a savage, and it was this she feared above all bar something happening to the golden-haired man from her first vision.

She still saw him quite often, always with the black-haired girl (was that really her?) at his side. She also saw again the family she was imitating in her hunting, only this time with her and the blond man as well. But she felt these visions were a long way into the future.

As she had more visions she began to understand and be able to control them more. She could feel how far into the future they were (and she knew they were the future because she'd had visions of herself before doing whatever it was she'd seen the following day) and she could focus them in a way, look for a particular person or event or place.

She looked for him.

In doing so, she learnt his name, Jasper, but what she saw confused and terrified her. She was scared for him, but selfishly scared for herself as well. In the vision he was in a battle. It was night-time, clear, she could see the stars, and she thought (though she may have only imagined it) that she saw him watching them before the battle began.

The battle scared her, the fierce fighting and the animalistic behaviour. She didn't breathe until she was satisfied that he was completely unharmed. Once the battle was over, she watched him move around the wasteland they'd been fighting in. She couldn't understand his expression.

Her heart broke a little when a dark-haired girl approached him after the battle. She watched him wrap his arms around her and kiss her, and she didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to show her sadness, but she felt like it was eating at her.

The control she had over her bloodlust was improving, at least. She could now approach a town without immediate visions of death and blood. She was still cautious – overcautious really – but as she tested herself and didn't hurt anyone she began to become more confident. She walked around cities on cloudy days, having seen visions of what would happen if she went into the sunlight. She realised she had no idea how humans lived and reacted apart from the limited knowledge from her visions, so she walked around cities and watched and listened.

Slowly as she grew more confident, she went into shops, but she soon realised people quickly became suspicious if she didn't buy anything.

It was by chance she found the library, but they soon began to recognise her as she went back almost every day. She liked the calm and the quiet, and talking to the librarians. She decided they felt sorry for her. She'd stolen a few sets of clothes as a newborn to replace the ragged dress she was wearing, but all were torn and a bit grubby now, no matter how much she washed them. At least she'd always managed to get the bloodstains out from the mess she'd made at hunting when she first tried it.

She discovered she couldn't read.

She listened to the librarians conversations; they were worried for their jobs in the big depression. She decided she wanted a job.

She hunted for jobs, but there were barely any on offer and few people wanted an illiterate girl in grubby clothes who didn't look much older than 18. When at last she got a job she had the night shift waitressing at a tiny street corner cafe.

The other waitresses complained about how low their wages were, although never loud enough for their boss to hear. To her, it was a fortune. She carefully saved up all her money until she had enough for some new clothes, and then again until she could pay rent on a flat.

The flat was miniscule and smelled of damp with faded carpet and stained furniture, but she didn't care. It was her home.

She found out about her extreme strength compared to humans by accident as well. She was walking home after her shift, about 4 in the morning. A group of men called out to her, jeering and pointing. She ignored them until one of them came up to her and pinned her against the wall. In her terror she pushed feebly against him to try and get away, but he flew away from her, hitting another wall and sliding to the ground. She ran away at a human pace; she knew that no one could run as fast as her. Finding another thing that kept her separate from everyone around her made her miserable. She sat in her flat, but she couldn't even cry. She felt lost and alone.

Her depression didn't fade, couldn't fade while she felt so lost. She got promoted at work, now working a day shift, but then fired after not turning up. She couldn't turn up, the sun was shining and her skin glittered if she moved into the light flooding the cafe.

She knew it was only a matter of time before she lost her flat now she had no money coming in.

She was walking around the streets of the city when she overheard two women talking inside a shop. The shop was a dress shop, a brides shop. There was something wrong with the woman's dress, but neither her or the owner of the shop could work out what needed to be done.

She entered the shop out of curiosity, and immediately saw what needed to be done. The hem needed to be taken up to make the dress slightly shorter, the waist line needed adjusting and the neckline didn't match the necklace the woman was planning to wear and was trying on.

She browsed around the shop for a while, before she felt she could interrupt their conversation and tell them what needed to be done.

The shop owner was very grateful, thanking her again and again as the woman was paying a lot of money for her dress. However, as the owner looked at her she could see the distrust building in her eyes. She had no money to buy new clothes, and these were now ripped and torn. She left the shop quickly, embarrassment and shame flooding her.

She had entered the shop on a whim, because she knew how to solve their problem. She left shamed and jealous, jealous of the woman getting married and being able to afford a wonderful dress while she was wearing torn skirts and grubby tops.

She began going to major shops in the city and examining clothes there, talking about how they should be changed or how they'd look better in a different colour to the sales assistants, and once the manager. She never got anything more than suspicious looks, but it gave her something to do, and made her feel really good when she realised this was something she was good at.

She had a vision of one of the sales assistants approaching a manager with something she'd said, and then of the manager talking to a designer. Within 6 months her idea would be on the shelves for people to buy.

She went back to that shop when she knew that sales assistant was there, just to see what would happen. To her surprise the assistant stopped her, and took her to see the manager. He asked her name and age (she told him 18 because she knew the older she was the more likely she was to get somewhere). He said that her idea had been brilliant, and that they would be willing to interview her for a job.

Her life began to improve.

She got the new job, paying much better than her previous, and could afford a better apartment and then some new clothes and furnishings. She was doing a job she loved, and she was happy, for the most part. She became friends with the other designers, one girl in particular who would always cover for her illiteracy if needed. She still had a nagging sense of aloneness, but much reduced than before.

One day she had another vision. She normally managed to suppress her visions during work, they scared her co-workers, and then old fears of her own came back, although she didn't know why she should be afraid if they feared her visions. She just was.

This vision, however, she couldn't suppress. It was too strong for her, and crystal clear. The stronger the vision, the clearer it was for her.

It was of the blond man, Jasper. He was thirsty, his eyes were dark enough to allow him outside during the daytime and in a busy city. Which one? She questioned. It was raining outside, so he entered a diner, much nicer than the cafe she used to work in, big and bright and clean. She was there, sitting on one of the stools at the table. As he stood there she hopped off and walked towards him. She held out her hand... and the vision faded. He didn't know, so he hadn't made a decision about how he would react.

She knew immediately she had to go there, she had to meet him. At the end of that work day she asked her boss for some time off, as she hadn't taken any since she joined nearly 6 months ago now. He agreed on the condition she wasn't too long.

She travelled to the place in her vision, confident that he would turn up. She sat down and ordered a muffin from the waitress. It would be easy to hide without anyone noticing.

He didn't arrive that day.

Nor the one after, or the one after that or even the one after that.

Only her vision kept her coming back, as she saw it again and again, coming closer each time, but was unable to find out exactly when.

A week later she came in and sat, as she always did, and ordered a muffin like she always did. It began to rain outside, and her still heart leapt with excitement. She knew then, that it was _today_, at last it was happening.

He entered the diner, and she saw for the first time in real life the man she'd always known she'd be with, the man she... loved. She loved this man, loved Jasper. And he'd love her, she realised.

She hopped off the stool and walked over to him. She could see in his eyes suspicion and fear, and could watch his muscles tense involuntarily.

"You've kept me waiting a long time." She spoke relatively quietly, but he of course could hear.

"I'm sorry ma'am." His reply seemed instinctive, not controlled by thought, but natural. It fitted.

She held out her hand, and waited for him to react.

He reached out and took her hand, although he almost seemed surprised at his own actions.

She smiled and led him outside into the rain.

Alice led Jasper off to begin their new life together.

**I wrote it! Massive writers block on this one, broken by writing a torchwood fic actually! Glad I finally got this down. I don't have my copy of Eclipse anywhere near to hand atm, so if I have made mistakes with the story **_**please**_** tell me so **_**I**_** can correct them.**

**And thank you thank you to AliceJasperJalice, who pointed out my errors in this chapter, i hope i've fixed them now. :D**


	4. Have The Wish I Wish Tonight

He walked away from Maria without a second thought – those came later. He doubted himself and his decision, but never returned. He was almost hypnotised by the life promised to him by Peter and Charlotte, a life of peace and calm, never having to battle or fight, never having to gain another scar on his battered body. So hypnotised, he rose and left without looking back, following Peter blindly into a new world, a world similar to his hazy human memories, and so different to the clear vampire ones. They still only moved at night, hiding in abandoned buildings or caves during the bright southern sunlight, although as they moved further north the sunlight became much less intense and they spent a large amount of their time in forests anyway. They spent their nights running north, stopping only to hunt. He felt happier than he had in ages.

'Jazz?' Charlotte lightly touched his shoulder as she spoke.

His reaction was instantaneous, he leapt up and away from her, over to the other side of the clearing in the middle of the thickly grown forest they were currently in; he instinctively growled softly – a warning. As soon as his brain caught up with his body, he moved again, to sit back down on the log next to her.

'I'm sorry, Charlotte.'

He rested his forehead on one hand. While his brain had begun to relax, to realise that everything Peter had said had been true, no fighting, no war and terror and that smell of burning, his body refused to. His instincts were the same as they had been for the last near-hundred years: something touches you, get out of range, then turn and attack. It was hardest on Charlotte, having spent the least time in the south, his reactions were distressing to her, the fact that she couldn't ever touch his shoulder to get his attention, couldn't approach him without calling out his name first. Peter was wary, knowing of the danger that Charlotte would be in if Jasper didn't realise what was happening quickly enough. Jasper hated the tension and the fear, hated the mistrust and hated himself because, of course, Peter was right to be cautious. He was wild and unpredictable and violent and dangerous.

Charlotte's expression softened from shock and chagrin to caring with just a hint of pity. It didn't make Jasper feel any better.

'That's OK, Jazz. Peter just wanted to say that we're going to hunt now; do you want to join us? And tomorrow will be cloudy so we will be able to travel all day as well, so we should be back home soon.' The excitement in her voice was hard to contain.

'I'm OK, thanks, Charlotte. I hunted yesterday.'

'Sure?'

'Yeah. Thanks.'

He felt exhausted, exhausted from feeling depressed and from fighting to hide it at all times. It had improved, of course, with Maria he felt like this for up to 6 out of 7 days a week. Now it was down to maybe 2 or 3. When Peter and Charlotte went hunting, or when he went off on his own to hunt or to run was the only time he could let his emotions free. Because of his talent his emotions were projected around him, affecting others unless he was very careful. He supposed to others it was why he always seemed cold and distant.

He thought he was hiding his depression well. It would have continued, apart from Charlotte's insistance that they should all hunt together at least once a week. Because of this he had less time on his own, less time to let his emotions out, of course making his emotions harder to hide. He became even colder and more distant, pushing Charlotte away and shutting her out. Peter didn't try to talk to him, but in his eyes he looked at Jasper with sadness and concern.

'Jasper?'

He didn't answer, but Peter carried on. 'Jasper, look at me.'

He didn't want to, he found it easier to control himself when he didn't move.

'Jasper, we all hunted yesterday.'

The silence was his unspoken question, so?

'We hunted, and look at you. The same happened last week, and earlier this week when you hunted alone. It's the hunting, Jasper, that's what's doing this to you.'

He looked up then, and Peter flinched at the pain in his eyes. 'And what can I do about that, Pete? We hunt, we kill. It's in our nature, it's who we are, it's _what_ we are.'

'It's different for you, Jasper. Your gift, your talent, whatever you want to call it...'

'Curse?' He offered dryly.

'You can feel them, can't you Jasper? You can feel their pain and fear, and you suffer with them in a way we don't.'

'And? Pete, what can we do about that? It's who I am. It's who I've always been and always will be.' It separates me. The unspoken statement hung between them, and the sudden weight of all Jasper's pain and loneliness suddenly escaped him and hit Peter, who staggered backwards until he caught himself

'I'm sorry, Jasper. Really.' He was, his remorse stronger than even the pain and depression Jasper was feeling. He turned to go, to leave into the forest and find Charlotte.

'I know you are, Pete.'

So he tried to hunt less, to starve himself until he couldn't take it anymore. But after years with Maria, of feeding on more than he needed every single day, his control was very limited. They were in the north now, in Peter and Charlotte's home area, but of course they were still travelling. Everyone travelled around, north or south. They had to plan their routes so carefully to avoid towns and cities during the days when he was starving because he had no control over himself. They didn't like it, he didn't like it either, forcing his friends to follow him and to change their plans around him. They wouldn't complain, they didn't even feel annoyed, but he did. He hated making them change their plans and what they wanted to do, just for him.

He wasn't worth it.

They couldn't see that.

He waited till they were all together, just resting in a clearing in the shade before carrying on. He told them flat out, that he was going to leave because it wasn't fair on them to always have to bend their plans around him.

Charlotte started to protest, but Peter stopped her. He could see in Jasper's eyes there was no chance of changing his mind.

Peter spoke to him once more before he left. 'Jasper... just be careful.'

He snorted. 'Pete, we're vampires. The living dead, immortal, moving rocks. No more. Nothing can hurt us.'

'Jasper, we can hurt ourselves.'

There was a silence before he spoke again.

'Stay in touch, yeah? I promised Charlotte you would. Maybe we'll come see you, in a few years.'

'Sure, Pete. Bye.'

It was different to leaving Maria. That was spontaneous, this was planned. That was going to something, this was leaving it behind. That was pure selfishness, this wasn't. Or at least, this mainly wasn't. As much as he tried to convince himself this was all for Peter and Charlotte, they didn't want to be carting him around, like something they couldn't get rid of, a burden. A small part of it though, was selfish. He was fed up of always trying to hide his depression, of having Charlotte fuss over him like a mother hen, of reading their emotions of nothing but pity. He didn't want that any more, so he left.

He'd never been without others, since his turning. Even when he and Maria weren't speaking, there were others around. Newborns, their names and faces imprinted on his memory, Jack, Charles, Elizabeth, even a Catherine. She had been one of the hardest to destroy when he was ordered to, why? Because she reminded him of his human life, and the lie about his wife.

He didn't like the new loneliness, but dreaded company as well. He took to wandering around the cities when his eyes were dark enough to be unnoticed (but before he was so thirsty he'd snap and kill someone in the middle of the street), just to see other people. Sometimes their emotions unsettled him, but even the many emotions in a city was better than his own depression.

He was in another city, he didn't know the name. He was just walking down the street when it began to rain. No human stood outside in the rain, if out they ran to their destination, so he couldn't stay as he was, drifting along. He looked around him. Shop, shop, apartments, diner, shop, apartments. The diner was his safest option.

He entered the warmth and the shelter, as a small black haired girl got of her stool by the counter to leave. He stepped aside slightly so she could get out the door, wondering if she knew it was raining.

She didn't leave, she stopped in front of him.

'You've kept me waiting a long time.'

'I'm sorry, ma'am.' Instinctive, polite apology, but he knew it was right. It fitted, somehow.

He touched his hat, and expected her to leave.

Instead, she held out her hand.

He didn't stop to think, ignored all the instincts that fought against contact as it led only to violence, ignored his past. He took her hand, and followed her into the rain.

Alice led Jasper out to start their new life together.

_Star light, star bright  
First star I see tonight  
I wish I may, I wish I might  
Have the wish I wish tonight..._

**I am so sorry! The computer died and then I was in Wales and then it was this or French homework and geography coursework, and I'm afraid they had to be done first :( forgive me?**


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